“Let him have men and money, sir.”
Fulk rose, and Richard gave him Knollys’ sword.
“Keep it, brother. Knollys shall be recompensed. And I am thinking that thou art leaving something of thyself behind with me. My Lord of Salisbury, let all things be done nobly. It is the King’s will.”
CHAPTER XLI
They rode back to the Black Mere next morning, and a buxom old gentleman on a white palfrey rode with them, even Father Hilarius, whom Knollys had chartered and sworn to secrecy and discretion. Father Hilarius was a merry soul. He cracked jests by the way, and the sly good humour oozed out of him like honey out of a broken comb. Nothing pleased him better than a marriage. He liked the cup of wine at the end of it, and the sententious benignity of his own words concerning love and the begetting of children.
Fulk took the quips in good part. Father Hilarius’s wit blew like a blithe west wind; it harmed nobody on a hot day in summer.
At the Black Mere they had refloated the barge, buried the dead in defiance of all crowners, and cleansed the hall. Some lover-sense had made blunt Cavendish order the place to be strewn with fresh herbs and flowers, and Isoult had smiled when she had seen these men of the sword at their labours.
So Fulk, Knollys, and Father Hilarius were ferried over, and Isoult met them at the water’s edge. She was a splendour that morning, and the shine of her lit a light in men’s eyes.
Knollys was a little boisterous and exultant.
“Madame Isoult, we have brought back knighthood and a shipload of fine plunder, not to speak of that very great saint and cenobite, Father Hilarius.”